I had a little hanging chime magnet like that, back when we lived in our house. I don't think it had a heart, but can't remember exactly what was there, where that heart is. I don't know what happened to it though. I don't have it anymore.
Very disturbing pieces. What do these poems mean to you? I have a hard time relating to them...and I certainly cannot relate to a mother who murders her own child and then commits suicide. I do not understand. I do not condone. Care to dig a bit deeper? Are you seeking freedom, as BOSLady explicates? Just open the window...
Sophmom, I couldn't help but smile when reading your words and wondering about metaphor...the old house, not sure about "it" having a heart, not remembering what was there, where that heart was...and...then...not knowing what happened to "it"...not having "it" anymore....
Made me wonder...
___________
Schmeebs, I hope I do too. I was asleep by 9pm and, with the exception of the briefest of awakenings shortly thereafter, awoke eight hours later...something I haven't managed to do for weeks. Thank god for pharmaceuticals. (lol) ___________
Bos, Spare words tell of intense concentration; a longing that knows no end.
Beautifully, perfectly, said.
As for freedom...such an internal perspective, bars and no bars, ease of departure and imprisonment. Who am I to say, ya know? I'm only somewhat familiar with my own cage...and wings. (smile)
"Yes, here is to my freedom, whatever that might be, and the same for all sentient beings." she said, wiping the eternal mud off her lotus soul. _________________
Marmy,
And love to you. _________________
yFooly, Well, yes, I can see how these two pieces can be perceived of as "disturbing". Words of love are the "usual suspects" one thinks of when there is whispering into an ear. Terror would fall outside the bell curve, hence its perfection in eliciting a visceral response by the reader. I loved the piece the moment I read it. As you know, it hangs on my frig.
As for the poems meaning(s) to me...I found them to have an ethereal quality of depth and I enjoyed how the writer expressed her experience from the inside. Powerful pieces. I was perusing some works to send to you, saw these, thought they were great, ended up sending you something completely different and thought I'd throw them out for others to share. Voila!Poof!
I think I'll respond to your other thoughts about the murder-suicide on the next post as it is there I mention this topic.
Ah, I see that now. It was, however apt, unintended. Of course, "it" is a long story. I'm pretty sure the house was full of heart, some of which was broken. However, I believe the chime fridge magnet had an angel where yours has a heart. :)
For the meaning of life differs from man to man, from day to day and from hour to hour. What matters, therefore, is not the meaning of life in general but rather the specific meaning of a person's life at a given moment. -- Viktor E. Frankl
Sed omnia praeclara tam difficilia quam rara sunt.
But everything great is just as difficult to realize as it is rare to find. -- Baruch Spinoza
Love Is A Long Road
There was a girl I knew She said she cared about me She tried to make my world The way she thought it should be Yeah we were desperate then To have each other to hold But love is a long, long road
There were so many times I would wake up at noon With my head spinning 'round I would wait for the moon And give her one more chance To try and save my soul But love is a long, long road
Yeah it was hard to give up Some things are hard to let go Some things are never enough I guess I only can hope For maybe one more chance To try and save my soul But love is a long, long road
I would not sing you to sleep.
7 consider The Way:
I had a little hanging chime magnet like that, back when we lived in our house. I don't think it had a heart, but can't remember exactly what was there, where that heart is. I don't know what happened to it though. I don't have it anymore.
Dotcalm
Love the poetry and LOVE the pictures. :) Hope you have a restful, restive weekend,.
Spare words tell of intense concentration; a longing that knows no end.
It seems freedom is as close as the window, such as as can be barred.
Or opened?
Here is to wishing you freedom.
x
Very disturbing pieces. What do these poems mean to you? I have a hard time relating to them...and I certainly cannot relate to a mother who murders her own child and then commits suicide. I do not understand. I do not condone. Care to dig a bit deeper? Are you seeking freedom, as BOSLady explicates? Just open the window...
Sophmom,
I couldn't help but smile when reading your words and wondering about metaphor...the old house, not sure about "it" having a heart, not remembering what was there, where that heart was...and...then...not knowing what happened to "it"...not having "it" anymore....
Made me wonder...
___________
Schmeebs,
I hope I do too. I was asleep by 9pm and, with the exception of the briefest of awakenings shortly thereafter, awoke eight hours later...something I haven't managed to do for weeks. Thank god for pharmaceuticals. (lol)
___________
Bos,
Spare words tell of intense concentration; a longing that knows no end.
Beautifully, perfectly, said.
As for freedom...such an internal perspective, bars and no bars, ease of departure and imprisonment. Who am I to say, ya know? I'm only somewhat familiar with my own cage...and wings. (smile)
"Yes, here is to my freedom, whatever that might be, and the same for all sentient beings." she said, wiping the eternal mud off her lotus soul.
_________________
Marmy,
And love to you.
_________________
yFooly,
Well, yes, I can see how these two pieces can be perceived of as "disturbing". Words of love are the "usual suspects" one thinks of when there is whispering into an ear. Terror would fall outside the bell curve, hence its perfection in eliciting a visceral response by the reader. I loved the piece the moment I read it. As you know, it hangs on my frig.
As for the poems meaning(s) to me...I found them to have an ethereal quality of depth and I enjoyed how the writer expressed her experience from the inside. Powerful pieces. I was perusing some works to send to you, saw these, thought they were great, ended up sending you something completely different and thought I'd throw them out for others to share. Voila! Poof!
I think I'll respond to your other thoughts about the murder-suicide on the next post as it is there I mention this topic.
______
Ah, I see that now. It was, however apt, unintended. Of course, "it" is a long story. I'm pretty sure the house was full of heart, some of which was broken. However, I believe the chime fridge magnet had an angel where yours has a heart. :)
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